


Premeditated Comatose

by stuffilikeiwrite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Has Issues, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Because Vader is Just Anakin In Denial of His Own Damn Self, Canon Compliant, Darth Vader Needs a Hug, Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, I Had Fun Writing Sad Vader and Soka, Kind of a Deep Dive Into His Psyche, Mentioned Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mentioned Padmé Amidala, Mentioned Shmi Skywalker, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, POV Darth Vader, Rant over, Slight AU but it's very little, Vader Struggles With His True Self, fight me, just a few additional lines of speech, so not really AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffilikeiwrite/pseuds/stuffilikeiwrite
Summary: She abandoned me. Not once did she look back, not once did she askme how I felt. She would only say it had nothing to do with me. She never cared for me. None of them did. They only ever used me.No. That was not me. It wasThe Jedi. They usedThe Jedi. She abandonedThe Jedi. Not me.Never me.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Premeditated Comatose

"Anakin."

_No._

The Jedi is _dead_. Destroyed. Defeated. Burnt. Buried. Obliterated. His memory is being actively erased, it serves no purpose. Not anymore. _She_ is just another bleak, grim reminder of something long gone. Of a man who brought on his own ruin. A man who wrecked his own life. A man living in the past. That is in _The Jedi’s_ past, his legacy. Death and self destruction.

I ought to deny her shameless, misguided proclamation. Ought to reject the use of a meaningless, discarded name. Her affections for this long lost man are pathetic, laughable yet admirable. Feeble, fragile yet intense. The conviction in her eyes is almost haunting. If _The Jedi_ was still around, he might have been moved and swayed by her sentiment. By the mournful gleam in her eyes, by the grief of loss in her voice. By the way her guard slips, by the way shock rattles her into a stunned, astonished silence. I can feel her pain, sense her immense regret. It might have tugged on his heart strings, but I have no such weaknesses.

Why is she regretful? Why is she apologetic? What does _she_ have to blame herself for? 

She left me. She left me alone, when I needed her. She turned me down, because of the Jedi Order. Because of the prideful, vain, overconfident, narrow minded dogma of the Jedi Order. Because they failed her. She left me, because of them. Everything is their fault. They lied, they were the traitors. She abandoned me. Not once did she look back, not once did she ask _me how I felt_. She would only say it had nothing to do with me. She never cared for me. None of them did. They only ever used me.

No. That was not me. It was _The Jedi_. They used _The Jedi_. She abandoned _The Jedi_. Not me. _Never me_. 

But it's palpable, undeniable. Unavoidable. Her sorrow. I remember... the first time I met her. A snotty brat of a youngling. Wisecracking. Immature. Childish. I remember watching her grow. Watching her evolve. From a child to a young woman, all life ahead of her. I remember watching the Jedi Order tear her down, rip her apart. I remember the light in her eyes fading, remember how she became jaded before she even became an adult. Remember her walking away. I remember the tears in her eyes, the tears in _mine_.

Not mine. _The Jedi's_. 

These memories do not belong to me. They are an artifact, a remnant. Unimportant, they mean nothing to me now. _She_ means nothing. She's just another Force wielder, another enemy, another traitor. She must die. She's aiding the Rebellion, aiding their pitiful excuses for Jedi. These Force wielders are no match for me, no match for the Dark Side. They are no Jedi, they are pathetic imitators. They are Jedi in name only. They are instigators, out to provoke me into action and grab my attention away from more pressing manners. They are a nuisance at best. 

They have succeeded.

"Anakin."

My name is _not Anakin_. My name has _never been Anakin_.

Why, then, do I recall her face as clear as were it my own? Why am I so familiar with her Force signature, with her voice, with her visage, her presence? Why do I falter when I meet her gaze, seeing her matured features with my own eye through the cracked face mask? She cracked it open herself, why did I allow her to come so close? Why did I let my guard down? Why did I not sense her attack? Why did I let her slip past my defenses? I should have blocked her. I should have impaled her. I should have already dispatched her. 

But she's _alive_. Staring me down with burdened, weary blue eyes. So much older than her true age, wise beyond her years. Unyielding, unrelenting. She doesn't speak. Is she going to cry? Why would she weep for me? Impossible. Irrational. She does not know me. She has _never_ known me, I have never known her. She's just another Jedi, another assignment, another lamb to the slaughter. 

I have no use for her. She means nothing to me.

" _Ahsoka_."

The name is foreign on my tongue, it tastes of bitterness and disbelief. She isn't worthy of my time, not worthy of me pronouncing the syllables. She's _The Jedi's_ Apprentice. 

_The Apprentice._

The apprentice I was supposed to tutor. The apprentice _I_ was tasked with mentoring; the apprentice _I_ was responsible for. I failed her. I let the Jedi Order turn against her and cast her out, and I did nothing. I stood by, too afraid to speak up. I let her down. I cared only for myself. That’s what I do. Of course she walked away from me. It's what I _deserved_ , my price to pay. Just like Obi Wan did nothing for me, just as he turned away in shame.

_Enough_. 

This does not involve Kenobi.

_Good luck_ , she said. 

Good luck. The last thing she ever said to me. Until this moment. 

She was supposed to be dead. I saw the wreckage. I brought her saber back with me. I’d thought she'd take those sabers to the grave. Why would she abandon them? I touched them up for her, did she not realize how much time I spent on them for her sake? I _meant_ for her to have them. I thought she was grateful. Why did she leave them behind? Why _would_ she? Did I mean so little to her? Did my efforts amount to nothing in her eyes? I’d thought she would understand. How hard I tried to regain her favour. All for naught. What did she ever want from me?

The Jedi is _dead_. 

Cease this foolish stalling. It does not matter what _he_ wanted. He does not exist. He is dead. He is gone. Forever. It matters only what _I_ want. But there is such brutal honesty in her eyes, such raw pain. 

All this time, I thought her dead. All this time, she was alive. Alive, and thriving, just out of reach. Hiding from me. Hiding from the Empire, from my master. All the times I saved her. All the times I kept her from dying. All the times I would not let her get hurt, would not let her go, refused to stand idle by and watch her burn out. All the times she uttered her gratitude towards me, all the times she expressed her affection, all the times I was fretful for her well being. She was my apprentice, my padawan, my little sister. 

_My Snips_.

Ridiculous. _She_ was never _anything_ to me. She's the enemy. She's the root of the evil plaguing the Empire. She's vermin. She's beneath me. She could never best me, and I know it. She knows it. I am more powerful than her, I am more powerful than any Jedi. Than any apprentice. I am Darth Vader, and that's all that matters. _The Jedi_ was worthless, his apprentice amounts to nothing more. Filthy, useless scum. 

She has to die. She must die, if I am to live. And I _must_ live.

"I won't leave you. Not this time," she whispers.

I didn’t expect that. Why would she say that? Why would she lie _again_?

Am I... faltering? Why? Why does it hurt? Because it does. It _hurts_. 

I had forgotten this kind of pain. The pain of blame, of betrayal, of _remorse_. They're unfathomable concepts. Unreachable. I don't care for flesh wounds, I scoff at blood-loss and shattered limbs. This is not that. This suffering... 

_I_ did this. I did it all. How could I? _Why?_ It got me nowhere. It earned me _nothing_. She left me, but it was my fault. Just like Obi Wan had no choice. He couldn't kill me, of course he couldn't. He loved me. Why didn't he tell me earlier? Why did he let the Order twist him into an emotionless husk? Why would he adhere to their poisonous teachings? 

And Padmé. 

_Oh, Padmé_. It was my fault. All I wanted was to save her. I did this for her, so where is she now?

"Where were you when I needed you?" I hear myself growl.

I barely even feel my lips moving, my voice a distorted mix of my own damaged vocal cords and the vocalizer’s deep baritone. She flinches. She trembles. The breathy sob that slips out before she can recompose herself cuts right through the empty cavity of my chest. I've _missed_ her. I've missed them all. Loneliness is all I know. There's no one left _but_ me. No one left to turn to. Only the Dark Side, and my master. She's alive. She's kind, and loving, and regretful. She wanted me to be dead. She wanted anything _but this_. This is her nightmare, as much as it is mine. 

At least she's not the one living it. 

Her eyes are wet, her expression is ashen. When she speaks, she repeats herself.

"I... I'm here now. I _won't_ leave you, I won't abandon you."

"I do not care whether you stay," I hiss; but the hollowing ache in my chest seeping out from the ruins of my heart consumes me.

It's a lie. 

I _want_ her to stay. I _need_ her to _stay_. I cannot stand the thought of seeing her turn her back on me. Her giving up, her losing all faith. Even if it means she must die, at least then she's here. At least then she's rectified her mistake. At least then, she'd be the one breaking the mold. She wouldn't be like Obi Wan, she wouldn't leave me behind in a lake of fire to burn to death. She wouldn’t watch me in agony, only to turn her back on me and walk away. She wouldn’t ignore my desperate, soundless cries for help. For mercy. For anyone at all. She wouldn't watch me cave under my own weight from afar, she wouldn't--

Stop this. This is insanity, it’s madness. It is irrelevant.

I must kill her. Now. Before this goes on too far. _I am not The Jedi_. I am the future, he is in the past. I am life, he is death. She belongs to him, _with him_. I belong by my master's side, until the day I can take his place. Such is the way of the Sith. I am Darth Vader. What's gone is gone. The dead cannot walk again. And if they could, they would appear but a semblance of what they were in life.

"I know. But I'm here. Whatever happens, I'm here for you _Anakin_."

That name again. It’s empty. It’s meaningless. It's...

It’s - 

My name. It's my name. The name my mother gave to me. The name I bore with pride. The name rejoiced during the Clone Wars, as a hero and a saviour. The name Obi Wan used, the name Padmé fell in love with. 

_My name_. 

I'm Anakin Skywalker. I _always_ was. 

I was a General, I was a Jedi Knight. I was the Hero with no Fear. I fought for the Republic until I brought it down with me as I fell. I turned to the Dark Side. I killed Count Dooku. I killed the Jedi Order. I killed the younglings, _the children_. I killed the Separatists. I pledged my allegiance to Darth Sidious. I doomed Mace Windu. I intended to kill Obi Wan. I killed Padmé. I meant to save her, but I had all the power and it went to my head. I wanted more, though I shouldn't. I couldn't save my mother, I couldn't save Qui Gon, I couldn't save Padmé. 

_I can never go back._

I have done such despicable things. I have committed too many crimes. I can never atone. I can never repent. I can never be forgiven. I can _never_ be redeemed. 

She cannot save me. She _should_ not save me. If I kill her, it would be mercy. She would be free from the knowledge of what I have become. That's why she must die. To forget me. Obi Wan deserves the same fate. They deserve freedom, and peace. They de--

_No._

_I_ am _not_ The Jedi. 

I am neither weak nor vulnerable. I am not gullible enough to fall for her attempts at preying upon my emotions. I am more powerful than I ever was, than she ever was. I do not need anyone. I need only The Force as my aid. I need only _myself_. I need neither company, nor associates. I do not need The Jedi's meek, pesky apprentice. I have no consideration or compassion for her sentimental rambling. I am a Dark Lord of the Sith. I cannot waver, cannot be turned. I cannot let myself be led astray by someone else's desires, someone else's feelings. They do not belong to me. They do not matter to me. They do not define me.

"Anakin. I'm here."

_Ahsoka_. 

_Ahsoka, I could never forget you,_ I want to say. 

I could never forget her companionship, her camaraderie, her admiration. I could never erase our bond. I remember _everything_. I try so hard, _why_ can I not forget? Why can't I dispose of the memories? I don't want them. All they do is hinder and chain me. All they do is break me down. Why can't I forget our first meeting? Why can't I forget her quips, her snide remarks, her humble compliments? Why can't I forget mother's dying words? Why can't I forget Obi Wan's tears, his remorse, his apologies? Why can't I forget Padmé's eyes, her hand in mine, her kisses? Why must they haunt me? Why must they torment me? Why can I never let them go? 

_Why can I never shut it out?_

It does not matter. The past does not matter. What is done is done. It cannot be altered. If I thought her dead, she may just as well _be_ dead. If I don't have to see her, she cannot remind me of who I am. Who I was. I'm different now. I'm another person. I've changed. I've changed too much to deserve to call myself anything _but_ Vader. Vader is who I've become, who I am now. The Jedi is a memory, like all the others. There's no other way.

"Then you will _die_."

I must kill her. Is that her goal? Will she let herself be slain by my hand? Will she fight back? 

She won't. She's ready for death. She came prepared for this. She knew all along. She didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to accept it. We're so alike, her and I. Neither of us want to accept the truth. We'd both like to continue living the lie, playing make believe. To look ahead until the charade is all we can see. One of us has to die. 

She knows it'll be her. It _has_ to be her. 

An opening. I aim for her head. I want it to be quick, I want it over with. I want her to suffer as little as possible. I owe her as much, I have wounded her far too much as is. When the deed is done, I can fool myself into believing I didn't struggle to bring my saber down. When she is gone, I can pretend I do not mourn her passing. I can pretend I don't care that I killed her. I can pretend that she means no more to me than any other life I carry on my conscience.

My padawan. She once told me she owed her life to me, to my tutelage, to the lessons I taught her. Now, I'm the one to snuff her light out. It was always _meant_ to be me.

This has nothing to do with me. I am _not_ Anakin Skywalker.

Mother's trembling hand, so weak against my face as her eyes cloud over. I remember her hoarse whisper of my name, as she goes limp in my arms. I remember my promise to come back, to free her. I promised her too much, _why_ did I promise her too much?

I am _not Anakin Skywalker_.

Obi Wan's stern scowl turns into a fond sigh. I remember his hand on my forearm, his eyes kind and understanding. He never said much, he never needed to. _Anakin_ , he says in his gentle yet reprimanding tone and I obey. I always wanted to please him.

_I am not Anakin Skywalker_.

Padmé's soft pale skin, her dark silken hair. The sound of her warm laughter, as her fingers tangle with mine. As she brings my hand to her lips, kissing each battered knuckle. I remember her petite frame pressed close to mine, remember telling her how much I love her. Over and over, and _over again_. The more I said it, the more I meant it. I still mean it.

I.

_Am._

_Not--_

Ahsoka's defiance almost makes me smile. She set a trap for me, using herself as bait. She wants to take me down with her, as she stabs her twin sabers through the flimsy floor. The cracks spread like a wiry spider's web, like a block of ice breaking apart. Growing in magnitude beneath us. 

I do not care. I shall finish this. She must die, so I can live. If she lives, she will forever be a reminder. She will forever torture me, forever seek me out, forever elude me. She will never let me rest. At least if she dies, I know how to deny her existence. I know how to pile her onto the heap of lives I have taken. I know how to write her off. If she dies, _The Jedi_ may stay dead.

If she dies, _I_ may live.

The floor gives out, as I strike her. I aim for her neck, as I become her executioner. I shut my eyes upon impact, feel no resistance. A pang of guilt surges through my body, so strong it knocks the air out of me. So strong, I stagger. It leaves me shell shocked, hard of hearing with my vision blurring. I open my eyes, expecting to be greeted by her decapitated body. Expect to behold the fruits of my handiwork. Expect the pain of guilt that now cripples me to either dissipate, or _implode_. The latter would be preferable. At least then, I can let it go afterwards. 

I am _Vader_ , and The Jedi is easier to subdue when the guilt is set aside. He shall always fall in line, eventually.

The floor caves in beneath my feet.

I fall haplessly, tumbling blindly through the empty air. 

_Anakin_ , she said.

She came back for me, and I killed her. She came back for me, she blamed herself for my current state of being. It was never her fault. It was always me. _Is_ me. This was never on her. This was never her burden to bear. 

When I land, I will bury it underneath the current again. When I land, I am once again Vader. There can be nothing else. But until then, I can admit to myself that she was _right_. I allowed her to speak that name, because it was the truth. 

I _am_ Anakin, if only until I hit the ground. 

If luck is on my side, perhaps I won't wake up to see another day.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted to write the internal struggle within Vader from his first personal view. I rarely if ever pick this style for my writing, so bear with me. 
> 
> I based Vader's back and forth with himself (because it is himself, Anakin and Vader are the same man after all) is lightly based on the way OCD obsessional thoughts function. I myself suffer from, and am diagnosed, with Pure Obsessional OCD and am in no way making light of my condition. I know what I'm doing, I simply implicated the pattern with which my own obtrusive thoughts may filter into my thought schemes. However in this case, Vader's thoughts are the reality he's denying trying to claw its way out rather than the fictional ideas obsessive thoughts provide. I just thought the flow worked for this particular narrative, and I had a lot of fun working with Vader's near compulsive denial of any Anakin based thoughts. It makes his struggle, and the strain upon the lie he's living Ahsoka's presence provides all the more tangible. Of course, this is heavily based upon and influenced by Twilight of the Apprentice. 
> 
> It's basically canon compliant, with a few additional lines of dialogue thrown in for dramatic effect. I found it added a more cohesive, finalized sense to the prose. Anyhow, enough rambling. (I never write credits what is going on haha)
> 
> Enjoy!


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